Hawthorn Read online

  My door handle rattles.

  I freeze.

  It turns and the door swings open with a creak.

  Heather shuffles in, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

  I realise I am holding my breath and let it out in a rush.

  “Hey, Hev. Come here.” I hold out my arms and she stumbles into them. We climb into my bed and I pull the duvet up, tucking it around us. She snuggles into me.

  “You have a bad dream?”

  She shakes her head. “Was having a nice dream, but the little girl woke me. She wouldn’t stop talking.” She yawns and closes her eyes.

  My scalp prickles. “What little girl?”

  “In the mirror.”

  I look down at her, but her eyes are closed, she is already asleep. For me, sleep is a long time coming.

  5

  GEMMA

  I wake up in the morning to chilly thighs and abdomen. The covers are thrown to the side and the sun’s rays haven’t reached the bed yet. I stare at the ceiling and it all comes back, Heather and her silly dream and Liam… Liam is coming today! I jump out of bed, not caring about the cold floor as it seeps into my feet. I grab my robe and pull it on and then I yank my mobile off charge to check the time and check for messages.

  It’s almost half ten and I have four messages, all from Liam. As I read them, my heart sinks further and further until it is sitting in the soles of my feet.

  I want to chuck my phone across the room, but I hold onto it and re-read the messages just in case I missed something the first time, just in case I misread them, but no, I haven’t. The messages are clear. Liam is not coming. Apparently his mum has gone and set him up with summer tutoring, not for him to be tutored, but for him to tutor someone else. That’s not so bad because Liam could do with the cash and he is super intelligent. That’s not the bad part. The bad part is the person he will be tutoring.

  I feel sick when I think about it.

  Jessica James. Jess James, the slut. Well, she’s not really a slut, but I hate her on principle anyway. She broke up with her boyfriend Matt just before the summer holidays, but she’d been making doe eyes at Liam for weeks before that. I’m surprised it took so long for her to notice him ‘cos Liam has the whole geek chic thing going and he’s super pale ‘cos he spends so much time indoors studying, building stuff and tutoring, so he totally has that whole Edward Cullen vibe. I sigh and flop back onto my bed. There’s no point getting up now. Liam will start tutoring Jessica and fall madly in love with her and forget all about me. They’ll get married and have super cute and intelligent babies.

  The more I think about it the more I want to scream. So I do. I grab my pillow and bury my face in it before letting out a muffled scream.

  “Gemma?”

  I resurface and push tendrils of hair out of my face.

  “Hey, Danny. What’s up, dude?”

  He cocks his head. “Why are you upset?”

  I point at the pillow. “What? This? Nah! Was just showing the pillow who’s boss, that’s all.”

  He frowns. “Okay. Mum said breakfast won’t eat itself. She wants you to go to the village and get some shopping.” He swings Buster by the arm.

  Great, my day just went from bad to worse. The last thing I want to do is go into the village and be gawped at. It’ll be bad enough once I start college next term. I was hoping to maintain a sense of mystery, you know, do the whole house on the hill mysterious owners thing, get them all talking down in the village then show up first day of term all ethereal and gorgeous and blow them all away with my wit, charm and intelligence.

  “Gemma? Are you okay? Your face’s gone all funny.”

  I snap my mouth closed and grin at him; a wide, I’m-gonna-eat-you-all-up, grin.

  His eyes widen and he is off, but I am hot on his tail.

  We enter the kitchen in a whirlwind of squeals and giggles. I have Danny under my arm and swing him up, plopping him into his seat. Heather giggles, holding up her arms.

  “Me too!”

  I pick her up and whirl her around before plopping her back in her seat.

  Mum shakes her head and brings over a plate of scrambled eggs, placing it on the table. She has done a whole spread; eggs, bacon, toast and beans, no wonder she needs me to go shopping.

  Jules is already tucking in. She winks at me and I take the seat next to her.

  “Sleep well?” she asks.

  “Yeah, thanks.” I don’t bother going into details about my little visitor. Mum hates it when the kids get into bed with me. She thinks they’re too old for that. I think you’re never too old for a cuddle. I reach over and ruffle Danny’s blonde hair. I know we shouldn’t have favourites, but there is something about Danny that just draws me. Ever since he was a baby he’s been my favourite. Maybe it’s because he’s so quiet, so introspective. Sometimes I think there is so much he wants to say and he’s storing it up for the right moment. I want to be there to hear it. I want to hear it all because I feel that when Danny does open up it will be special. Gosh, I sound like a terrible sister! Of course I love Heather too, so much, but she is a whirlwind, a little madam who knows how to put you in your place. In fact, I was surprised she came into my room last night. She’s usually a good sleeper and even when she has a bad dream she rolls back over and goes to sleep.

  “Was having a nice dream but the little girl woke me. She wouldn’t stop talking.”

  It was a dream, though. She was still dreaming when she said it. The idea of ghosts creeps into my mind, but I push it away because believing in ghosts is like believing in the voices.

  “Honey? You okay?” Mum asks.

  I realise I have been staring at Heather for a long time. She sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Heather!” Jules says.

  I tuck into my breakfast.

  6

  DANNY

  “Mum says we can play outside in the garden if we don’t go into the trees,” I say.

  Heather looks up from her colouring book and shakes her head. “I want to colour.”

  “Okay.” I shrug. “I’ll get my book.”

  She looks at me with her cross face “No. I want to colour by myself.”

  I don’t understand why she’s being mean. I wait for her to say she’s joking, but she ignores me and this makes me cross.

  “Why can’t I colour with you?” We always colour together. It’s the way it is. I don’t understand why she’s being like this. I don’t like it.

  She puts down her crayon and does her cross face again. “Go away, Danny. Go play by yourself. I want to play with Elsa.”

  I roll my eyes. She has made me watch that film so many times I know all the songs. I don’t tell her that I like it, though. I pretend I’m only watching it to make her happy.

  “Elsa is a cartoon,” I say.

  “No she’s not! Elsa is real and she’s a princess and she says I can be a princess too, so go away!” This time she gets up and rushes over. She pushes me hard so it hurts my chest. I fall back on my bum and she slams the door.

  I stare at it for a long time. My eyes burn and then I burst into tears.

  7

  JULES

  There is so much to do, so many boxes to unpack. I can’t imagine we will ever be settled. I alternate between being pissed off at Mary’s uncle for dying and leaving us this place, and grateful that it’s taken us out of the city and into the country. I’m a country girl at heart and always felt suffocated in the city. This is ideal. Once we’re settled we can start to enjoy it. I’m lugging another box up the stairs when I hear the sobs. They are stifled, but I recognise them. I put the box down on the landing and go in search of the sobbing twin.

  I find a lump under Gemma’s duvet which I assume is Danny from the Buster ears sticking out of the mass. It’s funny how he gravitates toward her every time he’s upset. Even though she’s not here, he seeks out her room, her personal space, so he can feel close to her.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand on the lump. />
  The sobs stop, and I hear a sniff.

  “Gemma?” He peeks out of the duvet and then starts to sob afresh when he see’s it’s me.

  “Gemma’s gone into town, buddy. What’s up? You can tell me.”

  He sniffs. “Heather won’t play with me. She pushed me and made me fall over and she shut her door and won’t let me in.”

  I feel a stab of annoyance toward Heather. She’s Mary’s favourite, even though Mary will never admit it. It’s evident in all the little trinkets and bows she picks up for her when we’re out. Either Gemma or I have to remind her to grab something for Danny. If Heather had a nightmare, I’m sure Mary wouldn’t send her back to her room.

  I can’t force Heather to play with Danny if she doesn’t want to, but I can certainly speak to her about the pushing. Maybe Mary is right, maybe Danny needs some time with other children aside from Heather. I look at his tear-stained face. I can’t imagine how much it must hurt to be rejected by the person you love the most, the person you share everything with.

  “Listen, why don’t you go and help mum in the kitchen? I’m sure she can use some big boy help putting away all the pots and pans. When you’re done we’ll have a kick about in the garden. How’s that?”

  He wipes at his face and nods before crawling out from under the covers and onto my lap. He wraps his arms around my neck and buries his face in the crook of my shoulder. I blink back tears. I can’t help it. These kids have got my heart so completely it’s crazy. I don’t know what I would do if Mary ever decided she’d had enough of me. I’m honestly not sure who I would miss more, her or the kids.

  I’m outside Heather’s door preparing my speech when I hear her voice. I lean in. She is talking to herself, although I can’t make out the words. I shake my head, smiling to myself. I can only imagine what Mary’s reaction will be if she finds out that Heather has an imaginary friend, but it’s perfectly normal in kids her age. I decide to save the talk for another day. I’m about to leave it, to walk away, when I hear the other voice. Scratchy and husky and no way could it be Heather. There is someone in there with her. My hand goes to the door handle, but I don’t turn it. I tell myself I am waiting, and then I hear Heather’s voice, light and breezy and unconcerned and I release the doorknob. She’s playing, of course, making voices. There is no one else in there with her. I turn and walk away, ignoring the squirming in my stomach, ignoring the fact that when I heard that voice my veins were filled with ice.

  I was afraid.

  I find Mary unpacking more boxes in the kitchen. “I think Heather has an imaginary friend.” I say it lightly, expecting an outburst.

  Mary sighs. “Oh well.”

  “I thought you’d be more upset.”

  Mary shrugs. “It’ll pass. Gemma had one too for a while.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she was about three I think. It lasted almost a year and then she just stopped talking about him.”

  I grab a box and start pulling out glasses and mugs. “Danny’s feeling a little left out I think. Heather pushed him today. He was really upset.”

  Mary yawns. “I’ll have a chat with her. It’ll be okay. It’s just a phase, love. Trust me.”

  8

  GEMMA

  I feel like something out of one of those family value American movies about a young girl’s summer of love. The wind picks up my shoulder-length hair and whips it back. It’s cool and refreshing on my face. I almost forget about my feet as they pump the pedals of my bike. I have a basket on the back and a small list of essentials, mainly perishables.

  I want to throw back my head like they do in the movies and stare at the sky, but the road into the village is steep and crooked and I need to keep my eyes firmly ahead.

  I feel almost pretty today. My legs are smooth and hair free in my denim shorts. For once I don’t mind the blobby birthmark on my thigh. I plan to get it covered up by a tattoo as soon as I turn eighteen anyway. The sun is warm and pleasant on my shoulders. I put Liam out of my mind and enjoy the ride.

  I am hurtling down the slope toward the bridge when I spot her; an old lady in a dressing gown and what I am pretty sure are slippers, standing about half way along the bridge, smack bang in the centre. I reach the bottom of the hill and begin to lose momentum, and then I’m pedalling. I slow as I approach her and then hop off. She looks scared, confused. I walk my bike to the side of the bridge and lean it against the railings, my arm brushing the iron as I do so, and it’s as if I’ve been bitten. I move away, rubbing my skin. Yeah, metal gets hot in the sun.

  The woman is watching me warily.

  “Hi, um, are you okay?”

  She glances behind her and then up the hill toward Learmonth House. You can’t see it from all the way down here, but she stares up as if she really can, as if she is studying it. Then, when she turns her eyes on me, they are clear and lucid.

  “You one o’ them aintcha?”

  I look up the hill and nod. “Um, yes. We moved in yesterday. My name is Gemma.” I step toward her, holding out my hand, but she jumps back, pretty agile for an old bird. “Okay.” I drop my hand. “I just…If you’re okay, I’m going to go now.” I turn toward my bike.

  “You shouldn’t have come here, you know, should have stayed away like Henry wanted.”

  “You knew my great uncle?”

  “That I did. Knew him well, knew him true. You shouldn’t have come back.”

  “Mum! MUM! Get back here!”

  I shield my eyes from the sun and glance down the bridge to see a woman, probably a little younger then mum. She’s standing with her hands on her hips. I can’t see her expression clearly, but I can guess she’s annoyed.

  The old woman sets her jaw. “Come and get me,” she says.

  “I’m not playing this game, mother.”

  “I know you won’t.” The old woman smiles and then she turns toward the younger woman and does a little jig on the spot.

  The younger woman throws up her hands. “For pete’s sake! I have a pie in the oven!”

  I really have no idea what to do at this point, this is obviously a thing between the two of them. The old woman is obviously a little strange so I jump on my bike and pedal toward the village. I figure the woman can sort her mum out. As I ride pass the younger woman she turns to look at me and, in the split second that I whizz past, I get the illusion of a huge smile, too wide, too sharp, but then she is behind me and I have nothing but the pounding of my heart.

  The village is like something off a postcard, with houses that look too small and shops with visors. I love it on sight. We passed through on our way up, but I was too busy sulking to appreciate it then. There is a roundabout right in the centre of the shopping parade and a little fountain. I jump off my bike and walk it along the pavement, staring at the shops. People watch me curiously. I smile, but they look away. The atmosphere seems to shift from relaxed to wary, or maybe it’s my imagination. There aren’t many cars parked on the road, but I see a ton of bikes. I’m looking for a general store and find it pretty quick, probably because it’s got a huge ‘General Store’ sign above it, painted in bright yellow letters. There are bike stands outside the store and I wheel my bike into an empty slot before escaping into the shade. The bell above the door tinkles, setting my teeth on edge. I don’t think I’ve been in a shop with a bell system before. It’s dark inside. I blink to allow my eyes to adjust. The shelves and racks come into focus. I pull my list from my pocket and grab a wire basket before going in search of the items I need.

  The store is pretty empty. I spot two other people who pay me no attention. I grab what I need and make my way to the till. There is no one behind the counter, but there’s an old-fashioned bell with a sticker saying ‘Ring for Assistance’. So I do.

  A tall, grey-haired man emerges.

  “Hello there. What can I do for you?”

  I place the basket on the counter and smile.

  “Ah, well, let’s see.” He picks up each item and then places it i
n a brown paper bag. “That’ll be £15.40, please.”

  I don’t know if he’s showing off for my benefit, or if he always totals things up in his head, but I can’t help myself. “What if I need a receipt?”

  His blue eyes twinkle and he quirks a brow. “Do you?”

  I shrug. “Just wondered.”

  “Well, then I would write you one.”

  “Okay, good to know.” I hand him twenty quid and he gives me my change.

  I am almost out the door with my bag when he speaks again.

  “You up at Learmonth?”

  I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah, my great uncle left the house to my mum.”

  He nods. “It’s a lovely property. I hope you enjoy it.” I sense he wants to say more, but after a few seconds, when he doesn’t, I walk out the door.

  I decide to walk my bike out of the village. I want to get a feel for my new home. I study the houses that I’m passing. Most are cottage-type affairs, painted various colours, but I notice the similarities. They all have a tree planted in their front lawn. I’m not an expert on trees, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same type of tree. It’s odd because unless all the residents got together and planned it, how is that possible? Another similarity is the presence of a horseshoe, either on the gate or above the doorway of the house. It’s supposed to be decorative, but once again I get the feeling that there’s more to it than that. I decide to google it later.

  I get to the bridge and am relieved to see that the two women have gone. There’s a thin trail leading off to the right which I assume leads to their home. An image of razor-sharp teeth flashes through my mind, making me shudder. I’ve obviously been out in the sun way too long. I climb up onto my bike and pedal the rest of the way home, up the hill, working my muscles and working up a sweat. A nice cool shower awaits me and then some grub.